points of religion, and made her perfectly a Christian; and she, by her devotion and prayers for me, makes me such amends for it that I hope in us two St. Paul's saying will be verified, viz., "That the woman shall be sanctified in her husband, and the husband shall be sanctified in his wife."
However, I must take notice in this place, with all due deference to Christianity, that though I am obliged to applaud the prudence and piety of Charles the Ninth of Sweden, who, constituting Swedish governors over this country, abrogated their practice of superstitions and art magic upon pain of death, yet that king carried the point too far, and intermingled with these arts the pretensions to the gift of a second-sight, which you know how frequent it is with us in Scotland, and which, I assure you, my wife (though she durst not publicly own it for fear of incurring the penalty of those Swedish laws) does, as it were, inherit (for all her ancestors before her have had it from time immemorial) to a greater degree than ever I knew any of our countrywomen or countrymen.
One day last week she distracted me between the extremes of joy and sorrow. She told me I should see you shortly, and that my coming son would grow to be one of the most remarkable men in England and Scotland, for his power of foresight; but that I should speedily lose her, and meet with difficulties in my own country, in the same manner as my father, meaning you, sir, had done before me, and on the same account, viz., of civil broils, and intestine wars in Scotland.
These unfortunate parts of her relation I would not conceal from you, because the veracity of her notions should appear, if they are true, though you may be sure I much wish they all may prove false to the very last; excepting that wherein she tells me, my son will be greatly remarkable, and that I shall shortly see my dear father, which I daily long for, and will endeavour to do as soon as possible. Pray remember me to all friends; being,
I am now the happiest man alive; the prosperous part of my wife's predictions, which I mentioned to you in my last, is come in some measure to pass. The child she has brought me proves a boy, and as fine a one as I ever beheld, (if fondness for my own makes me not blind); and sure it cannot be fondness, because other plain circumstances joined at his birth to prove it a more than ordinary remarkable one. He was born with a caul upon his head, which we count one of the luckiest signs that can be in nature; he had likewise three teeth ready cut through the gums, and we reckon that an undeniable testimony and promise given to the world by nature, that she intends such a person for her extraordinary favourite, and that he is born for great things, which I daily beg of heaven may come to pass.
Since I have known for some months what it is to be a father, it adds a considerable weight to those affections which I had for my wife. I thought that my tenderness for her was at the height of perfection before; which shows how little we know of those parts of nature that we have yet never tried, and of which we have not yet been allotted our share to act upon the stage of life. I find that I did love her then as well as a husband could love a wife, that is, a wife without a child; but the love to a wife that has a child, is a feeling wonderful and inexpressibly different. A child is the seal and the pledge of love. Meditating upon this, has likewise doubled my affection to you. I loved you before, as a son, and because as such, I felt your tenderness; but my love is much increased now, because I know the tenderness which you felt for me as a father. With these pleasing images of thought, I often keep you nearer company at this vast distance, than when I lived irregularly under your eye. These reflections render a solitary life dear to me. And though I have no manner of acquaintance with her relations, who hate me, as I am told, nor indeed with almost any of the inhabitants, but my own domestics, and those I am forced to deal with, yet I have as much, methinks, as I wish for, unless I could come over to Shetland and live with you, which I the more ardently desire, because I think I and my wife could be true comforts to you, in your advanced years; now I know what living truly is. I am daily persuading my wife to go with me; but she denies me with kind expressions, and says, she owes too much to the place, however less pleasant in itself than other climates, where she had the happiness of first joining hands with me in wedlock, ever to part from it. But I must explain how I ask, and how she refuses. I resolved never directly and downrightly to ask her, because I know she can refuse me nothing; and that would be bearing hard upon the goodness of her will. But my way of persuading her consists in endeavouring to make her in love with the place, by agreeable descriptions of it, and likewise of the humane temper of the people; so that I shortly shall induce her to signify to me that it is her own will to come with me, and then I shall seem rather to consent to her will, than to have moved it over to my own. These hopes I have of seeing my dear father very shortly, and I know such news would make this letter, which I therefore send, more acceptable to him, to whom I will be,
P.S. If I cannot bring my wife to change this country for another, I have brought her to that pitch of devotion, that whenever Providence, which, notwithstanding her predictions, I hope will be long yet, shall call her to change this world for another, it will be happy with her there; she joins with me in begging your blessing to me, herself, and our little Duncan, whom we christened so, out of respect to the name you bear.
My dear Father,
I am lost in grief; I had just brought my wife (her that was my wife, for I have none now, I have lost all joy), in the mind of coming over to be a comfort to you. But now grief will let me say no more than that I am coming to beg comfort from you, and by this I prepare you to receive, when he comes, a son in tears and mourning.
P.S. I have a babe, not much above two years old, must bear the hardships of travelling over the ice, and all through Muscovy, for no ships can stir here for many months; and I cannot bear to live in this inhospitable place, where she died, that only could make it easy to me, one moment beyond the first opportunity I have of leaving it. She is in heaven; that should make me easy, but I cannot; I am not so good a Christian as she was – I am lost and ruined.
CHAPTER II.
AFTER THE DEATH OF MR. DUNCAN CAMPBELL'S MOTHER IN LAPLAND, HIS FATHER, ARCHIBALD, RETURNED WITH HIS SON TO SCOTLAND. HIS SECOND MARRIAGE, AND HOW HIS SON WAS TAUGHT TO WRITE AND READ
Mr. Archibald Campbell, having buried his Lapland lady, returned to Scotland, and brought over with him his son, Mr. Duncan Campbell. By that time he had been a year in his own country, he married a second wife; a lady whom I had known very well for some years, and then I first saw the boy; but, as they went into the western islands, I saw them not again in three years. She being, quite contrary to the cruel way much in use among stepmothers, very fond of the boy, was accustomed to say, she did, and would always think him her own son. The child came to be about four years of age, as she has related to me the story since, and not able to speak one word, nor to hear any noise; the father of him used to be mightily oppressed with grief, and complain heavily to his new wife, who was no less perplexed, that a boy so pretty, the son of so particular a woman, which he had made his wife, by strange accidents and adventures, and a child coming into the world with so many amazing circumstances attending his birth, should lose those precious senses by which alone the social commerce of mankind is upheld and maintained, and that he should be deprived of all advantages of education, which could raise him to the character of being the great man that so many concurring incidents at his nativity promised and betokened he would be.
One day, a learned divine, who was of the university of Glasgow, but had visited Oxford, and been acquainted with the chief men of science there, happening to be in conversation with the mother-in-law of this child, she related to him her son's misfortunes, with so many marks of sorrow, that she moved the good old gentleman's compassion, and excited in him a desire to give her what relief and consolation he could in this unhappy case. His particular inclination to do her good offices, made him recollect, that, at the time he was at Oxford, he had been in company with one Doctor
